


Fading Colors

by Chikita



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Denial, Distant Parents, Family Loss, Gen, Hospitalization, Manga Spoilers (Chapter 387), No Death yet, Open Ending, Present Tense, Sad, Terminal Illness, but we all know how it ends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:13:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23375224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chikita/pseuds/Chikita
Summary: Kazuyo-san is deathly ill and Tobio, his grandson, is in denial.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio & Kageyama Kazuyo, Kageyama Tobio & Kageyama Miwa
Comments: 8
Kudos: 62





	Fading Colors

**Author's Note:**

> Someone stop me from writing more angst about this chapter aaaah

The walls around them are clean and almost unnervingly white. Tobio is sitting on a chair next to the bed where Kazuyo-san, his grandfather is resting. His skin is wrinkly and pale, and there are countless tubes sticking to multiple areas of his body. A mask is sitting on his face, and his eyes are closed. They have been for a long time now, hours, possibly _days._ Tobio knows what his eyes look like. They’re bright, and deep blue like his own, but as long as his grandfather’s sleeping, he can’t make any comparisons. He’s not sure he wants to.

The worst about hospitals isn’t the terrifying beeping noises of the machines, like they always show on tv. It’s the _smell._ A mix of sanitizer, cleaning chemicals and something else he can’t make out. It smells like pain and suffering, and he _really_ doesn’t want to be here. But he doesn’t want to be anywhere else either. With a huff, Tobio clutches the worn down ball in his hands, restlessly kicking the school bag at his feet. A few inches away from him, Miwa is typing away on her phone. Her eyes are red and tired, and her hair looks a little greasy. College must be stressful. Tobio makes sure to thank her for picking him up after practice. She’s an adult, so she probably has more important things to do than driving her brother around.

“Tobio?”, she asks him, her voice sounding as tired as the rest of her looks, “Don’t you want to go home?”

He looks up, blinking a few times as he thinks about what to answer, “I do, but not yet.”

“We’ve been here for over an hour.” She sighs and twists a strand of hair around her finger, a nervous tick of hers, “Aren’t you always starving after practice? You didn’t eat dinner yet.” As if on cue, Tobio’s stomach starts growling, and he flushes in embarrassment. He knows he’s easy to read. But this time, his sister isn’t smirking, doesn’t laugh or make a cheeky comment about him being like an open book. She just glares at him, unblinking, the corners of her mouth turned down.

“I want to tell grandfather about our practice match. It was fun. Hashikami-san is really good at-”

“Then do,” Miwa cuts him off a little louder than necessary, startling him. For a few seconds they stare at each other, confusion written on both of their faces, before Tobio picks back up.

“He won’t be able to listen to me when he’s sleeping. I’m waiting for him to wake up.” His brows furrow, irritation setting in. As a college student, his sister shouldn’t be that dense, right? If he talks to his grandfather right now, he won’t remember it the next day, maybe even think he was dreaming. But this is important. He needs him to know about everything. He’s the only one he can talk about volleyball these days, the only one he can connect to and ask for advice.

“Tobio,” Miwa says then, and this time her voice is softer, quieter, “He’s not going to wake up.”

_Silence._

Tobio averts his eyes, fixating the only picture on the wall. It’s a butterfly, shiny and happy colors clashing with the white everything around them. For some reason, he hates it, so he looks back at the unmoving, sickly-looking face of his beloved grandfather. His eyes are still closed, lips parted slightly. It’s impossible to tell whether he looks peaceful or distressed.

All of sudden, Tobio’s stomach starts cramping. Probably because he’s hungry, but the pain comes so unexpected and _intense,_ he barely manages to stifle a groan. “You’re lying,” he spits out to make sure his sister knows what he’s thinking, and scowls at the ache that won’t subside on its own. He’s not looking at her face anymore, but he wants to know what’s going through her head. What makes her say things like that. He doesn’t get an answer, because he never asks.

A few minutes later, there’s a familiar noise of heels clicking on the floor. Tobio turns his head to see his sister standing up and gathering her things. “I’m sorry, Tobio,” she says and she really _does_ sound sorry, “I have classes twenty minutes away from here, and I can’t possibly fail another grade.” She looks at him expectantly as she’s tying a scarf around her neck before buttoning up her coat. Obviously, she’s waiting for him to get up and follow.

“I want to stay here,” Tobio decides, voice firm and he almosts expects Miwa to get mad. Instead, she lets out another sigh and steps closer, her hand reaching out to ruffle his hair. Tobio flinches, but doesn’t pull back. It’s been so long since she has done that. With a deep exhale, he closes his eyes and melts into her touch, still holding onto the volleyball.

“Do you have enough money for the bus?” Her voice is gentle now, and Tobio nods, not sure if he actually _has_ the money considering his habit of spending most of it at the school’s vending machine. But then again, his house isn’t that far away. If all fails, he can walk. It might take a little longer, but it’s doable. The only thing he worries about is his stomach. It still hurts like hell, and he fears skipping dinner isn’t the only reason.

Before she leaves, Miwa turns around for a last time, her hand already on the doorknob. “Try to get home before it gets dark,” she says, “There are weird people around and things are hard enough as they are. You have take care of yourself, Tobio.” Before he can answer, Miwa is gone, the door falling shut behind her. Silence envelops the room, and Tobio feels a cold, strange sort of anxiety creep up at the thought of his sister leaving him there.

He’s alone.

_No._

He shakes his head, berating himself for his silly thoughts. He’s not alone. _Stupid._ His grandfather is here, and as long as he’s here, he won’t ever be alone. He’s just sleeping because the medication’s making him worn out and tired. That’s _normal._ It’s normal to be tired when you’re sick, and rest is what helps you recover. That, and having people care for you.

So Tobio does what feels right to him. He tells his grandfather about the match, goes into great detail about each toss of the main setter, each serve and spike that changed the score. He tells him about how Kunimi could’ve gone after that ball towards the end of the set, but didn’t, and how dumb he thought that was. He tells him about Kindaichi and the captain, about how Tobio managed to do a jump serve all on his own, but it was offside by a few inches.

He tells him all of those things, just to get them out of his system, but promises to repeat the whole story to him once he’s awake, whether that be in twenty minutes, an hour, a day or even later than that. He’s good at memorizing stories if they’re volleyball-related. And then, he’s going to ask him for advice on all the things that bother him. Things he can’t ask his teammates or the coach about. Things his parents would shake their heads or shrug their shoulders at.

He’ll just have to be patient and _wait._ Everything’s going to be fine.

\---

After a nurse had to pretty much _shove_ Tobio out the hospital door, he’s on his own again. He looks up at the sky. It’s cloudless and dyed a deep orange, a nice color, he has to admit, bright and lively. His grandfather used to like wearing orange. For about ten more minutes, Tobio lingers in the parking lot, walking in circles until his head is spinning. He wants to go back inside, but he’s not allowed to. Visiting hours are over. There’s nothing he can do.

After getting over himself and passing the gate, Tobio turns left and makes his way down the road, bus and stomach pain forgotten. He’s too stirred up to wait, and as far as he knows, he’s already missed the last bus to his street. It’s a quiet neighborhood where he lives, so it makes sense to not have a lot of public transport. To make matters worse, he’s not sure he’s going in the right _direction_ , so if he gets lost, he’ll have to ask a shopkeeper or a random pedestrian.

His hands are buried in the pockets of his uniform jacket as he walks, the air around him chilly enough to make his breath show. The cold seems to soothe his raw nerves, stinging just the right way.

There’s no need for him to hurry. It’s not like anyone’s waiting for him at home.


End file.
